


Apples of Idun

by LittleLinor



Category: Shin Megami Tensei: Devil Survivor
Genre: Consensual Kink, M/M, Overlord!protagonist
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-30
Updated: 2013-06-30
Packaged: 2017-12-16 15:28:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/863586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleLinor/pseuds/LittleLinor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This time, Abel chose <i>him</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Apples of Idun

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tonake](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tonake/gifts).



There was smugness in his smile when he drew you close.  
You think it runs in the family.  
It isn't all there is, of course. His time in the demon world has changed him, refined him, and the assurance that sometimes shone under the surface has blossomed. There is knowledge in his eyes, and a special kind of relaxation in his back and limbs, the poise of someone who expects to be obeyed.  
The more you see him, the more you understand why. He knows he will not be challenged, because he knows to ask for what people want. For what you want.  
He is, you think, a much better leader than you'd expected.  
He lies relaxed under you as he draws you in, and you follow, as if pulled, because you want this, want _him_ , and the concept of actually having him is still alien to you. He's _letting_ you, letting you lay claim to him, and the you of millenia ago, in his pride, might have bristled at the idea.  
You have lived all your lives under a curse. You know to count your blessings.  
(Pride has cost you much too much, anyway)  
You press a kiss to the hollow of his throat and watch him tilt his head back, sensual, unshaken. He yields to your touch and kisses without hesitation, melding his muscles and spine to the curve of your hands on his back, and even as you drink him in and let your lips taste his neck, you don't quite understand.  
He knows. Who you are and what you are and what he is to you; he's learned it as a poisoned bounty of this war because the angels wouldn't go down without delivering a sucker punch to you, who they doubtless deem responsible for everything. And he shouldn't be surrendering himself to you, leaving himself vulnerable, but there he is, abandoned in your arms. You're not sure whether it means he's forgiven you and is mad enough to trust you with his heart when the first thing you ever did with it was to shove a knife into it, or whether he thinks he has much too much control over you for any real risk to exist.  
To be perfectly honest, you're not completely sure either.  
(You've given him the gift of free will that God stole from him all those years ago, and somehow he chose you. And that should have given you power, but it's the opposite in the end, because your desire, your yearning, the countless times you've seen him go to the other side have left you in his hold. You don't care. You've been granted your wish, and your other wish after that, and more than you ever dared to imagine. And even that, in a way, gives him power.  
You really have raised him too well)  
You move up to kiss him and he wraps his arms around you, one around your neck, the other around your back, trapping you, as if _you_ were the one who always left. He kisses slowly, patiently, making you curl with the thirst of him, and when you snap and grip his hair to kiss him deeper, harder, his fingers rub your back in praising, comforting, appreciative circles.  
(He knows this about you, too)  
Memory flashes and then goes, and you're still there, lips gasping on his, hands gripping at his back and hair, knee pressed between his legs. He smiles when you break away, both gentle and triumphant, his eyes dark with a glint that reminds you of battle.  
"You'll have to do something about that smile, if you want to fit in with humans again," you inform him.  
He laughs and pulls you back to him, and this time when he kisses you his teeth close around your lips, not hard enough to break, but enough to make you press against his body in turn.  
He moans at the contact, and you use that to start making your way down his body, trailing hands and exploring lips. You take your time, draw shaky, relaxed sighs out of him, and every kiss tastes of victory. Not over him but _for_ him, this ultimate reversal of fate that you managed to orchestrate.  
You pulled the sacrificial lamb back from the altar and made him a king, finally repaid the price you paid for your foolish, cruel worship.  
And this, in a way, is its own kind of worship, you realise, and it makes you snort as you're about to take him in your mouth (a veneration through lust, you think, how fitting for a demon lord).  
He moans and arches and there is power radiating from him (so he _did_ change in more ways than one, after all), and you drink it all in as your mouth goes through the motions. You know your way around most human bodies by now, but there's always something personal and specific to learn, and when it comes to him you want to learn every little detail of him, every facet of his pleasure, so you can serve him or send him flying out of control. He's lasting much better than you thought, though how much of it is his nature and how much is experience, you couldn't tell. But when you let him go, his eyes are dark and burning, and he traps your neck with one leg. You let yourself smirk.  
(Even against him, you like small victories sometimes)  
"Don't worry," you chant, "I'm not done yet."  
He laughs, and there's definitely something radiating from him now, a power that settles on your skin and nerves, heavy and suffocating.  
"Of course you're not."  
And it's enough to freeze you in place with fascination and desire as he straightens and sits, pulls you up to his level and kisses you, wrapping around you until he's straddling your lap and your hands are sliding down, magnetised.  
He's blazing, and your fingers are sliding into him without any of your directions, and you know you're going to give him what he wants (again).

**Author's Note:**

> The title is a double reference, both to forbidden fruit of knowledge and... well, google it and share my hilarity.  
> I am not sorry for anything in this fic (but I hope you had as much fun reading it as I had writing it).  
> Disclaimer: being a little shit also runs in the family.


End file.
